Here Today
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: From chocolate to call girls to Vince murder plots, Steph and Paul hardly find any time when she comes out to visit him, to tell one another how much they love each other. But somehow they manage. - One-shot.


Steph used the key that Paul always left for her down at the front desk to key into his hotel room. It was rather late, around eleven in the evening, so she wasn't sure what he would be doing when she got in. Not shocked to find the room dark as she entered, Stephanie moved through the lightless hotel room as silently as she could. She had a little duffel bag as well as an arm full of things that Paul had requested her to bring, such as protein bars and the like. Dropping them all on the couch in the corner, she turned then to stare over at her boyfriend with a slight grin.

He was sleeping, it seemed, and hadn't woken up, even with her entrance. Stephanie knew that must have meant that he was completely exhausted and took to not waking him, not even taking the shower that she wanted, for fear of that disturbing him.

And when she slipped into bed, it was with care to not get too close to him. She was practically on the edge, in fact, just to avoid this. Part of her kinda hoped, of course, that something would startle him awake, maybe just her proximity to him, so that she could tell him about her horrible drive in or so that he could kiss her head and give her a proper goodnight.

Something.

But with no such luck, she had no other option than to just fall asleep.

Which she did. For a good three hours, it seemed. A sharp intake of breath from Paul as well as a loud curse awoke her though. Scared the crap out of her, in fact.

"Wha-"

"You rubbed up against the brace. Damn, Steph."

He was sitting bolt right up, fists balled tightly as he tried his hardest not to touch the brace over his knee at all while Steph only sat there, in the dark, mostly confused as to what was going on.

"Baby, I'm sorry." She was moving then, out of reflex, to rub at his shoulders. "Let me-"

"Just," he got out through gritted teeth, "give me a sec, huh?"

It was a tense few, actually, as they sat there until, slowly, Paul fell back into the bed, eyes shut as the pain ebbed away and he was just lying there, Steph still sitting up above him, watching.

"I didn't even know you were here," he breathed as Stephanie, slowly, moved to rest a hand on his chest. "Mmmm. I'dda, uh, waited up for you, you know, instead of fallen asleep. If I'd know. You should have called me."

"I thought about it," she admitted softly. "But I didn't even think about coming early until I was...just...doing it. Driving here. I missed you."

Paul laid a hand over the one she had resting on his chest. "I missed you too. Steph. I just wish you hadn't-"

"I'm sorry. Really. I-"

"It was probably my fault," he said with a shake of his head. "I might have rolled or something and…" Paul managed a smile for her. "Why didn't you wake me up when you got here?"

"I know that you're, like, exhausted or whatever-"

"I did nothing yesterday." He patted the hand on his chest. "Hey, let's switch sides, huh?"

By which he meant on the bed. At the moment, Steph was, obviously, on the same side of the bed as his bum quad (the left), which wasn't where she typically slept in those days. Rather, they were typically always sure that she slept on his right, away from his still at times in pain quad.

"You were just on the wrong side of the bed," she apologized as she got to her feet and he scooted over to her half of the bed while she went to fall into the side that he had vacated. "Does it still hurt?"

"I'm fine," he told her. "Honestly, Steph. I'm just glad you're here."

"You should, like, take some of your pain pills. Here? Did you want me to get you some or-"

"Steph, I really think the last thing any McMahon should ever do is offer a wrestler pills."

She glared at him too, he could feel it, even in the darkness, as she fell back into bed. "Fine. Suffer."

"If getting to sleep next to you is suffering, sign me up for the extended stay."

"You're not going to schmooze your way back in."

"Can I get a sympathy way back in then?" He turned his head to the side, staring over at her. "Because I've had a shit week, Steph."

She took a breath in, staring across the bed at him. "I know."

And she did. They'd talked, as they always did, on the phone, and he'd told her all about how horrible he'd been feeling recently and how he didn't want to do anything at all some days, and certainly didn't care about wrestling or anything close. One day, when she was trying to be uplifting and he just wasn't into it, he'd told her that he wasn't even into her anymore and why did he call her then, huh? If she couldn't just shut up and listen to him?

They skipped out the next day on calling one another. Until he called her again and apologized in a way that was certainly uncharacteristic for him, insisting that he'd just been feeling down and he'd be better, he'd feel better, when she came to see him.

It was, in fact, the reason she'd left as soon as she could and decided to just drive the whole night to get to him. She knew that Paul was in an easy depressive place and, a lot of times, he felt as if he had no one else he could talk about it to. Most of his friends were fellow wrestlers and he was always fearful of looking weak in front of them and his family, well, he just didn't want to worry them. Especially his mother.

So Steph always tried not to act worried, regardless of how she felt deep down. Tried to tell him about how it would all be okay and that he just needed to focus on resting up for the time being. Relax. She said that a lot. Relax, Paul. Just relax. Take deep breaths. Life isn't just wrestling. Life _shouldn't_ just be wrestling.

Other time she got angry with him, when he was. When he needed her to be. Got fired up about how shitty things are and how unfair it was, to him, and that what the fuck did everyone want from him? What the fuck did he want from himself? Huh? Huh? What? Huh?

Lying there with him the though, Steph knew exactly what kind of night it would be and moved closer, almost cautiously, as she rested a hand once more on his toned chest. Only for a moment though because, just as quickly, she was tossing that arm around his stomach and moving to practically lay atop him.

Hugging. She was hugging him.

"We can talk in the morning, Paul," she told him as one of his hands came to pat her gently on the back. "Just feel better, okay?"

"Already do." Leaning his head down, he nuzzled it against hers affectionately. It usually would have made Steph giggle, but at the moment, she didn't feel it was appropriate. "You should surprise me more often."

"You liked that I came early?"

"Of course." Then, in the darkness, he grinned brightly as he said, "I mean, as long as I-"

"If you're going to make another joke about having a woman in your room, like you have, oh, the last ten times I've come-"

"It's a funny joke."

"Not to your girlfriend that, by the way, takes a lot of time out of her busy schedule to come see you-"

"I know how busy you are."

"But do you?"

"I watch you every time you're on TV."

"Awe."

"Even though I fucking hate it, I do it. For you."

She kissed his chest. "I never asked you to do that."

"I wanna see you. Make sure ol' Vince is giving you proper storylines." Paul let out a short breath then, trying to keep things playful. Just from the way that she was behaving as well as the fact the woman had shown up before she'd told him she was planning to told him that she was going to pry at him eventually. For the moment though, he just wanted to be them. "It's hard, you know. Losing your husband."

"I didn't lose him. I know where he is." She breathed him in softly. "I'm just evolving without him."

"Hunter won't like that."

"I don't think I like Hunter anymore."

"Well, you've always been rather loose."

"Have I though?"

"You have."

"Compared to Hunter who has to have, like, slept with the entire roster-"

"Not the entire roster." Paul made a face down at her. "Jericho's not my type."

"That hair on hair action though-"

"Hey, Steph, can you do something for me?"

She'd shut her eyes, but opened them then. "Anything."

"I'm kinda thirsty. Can you-"

"Of course, Paul." With a yawn, she moved to climb out of bed. "Water fine?"

"Mmmm." He'd shut his own eyes then. "Water'd be great."

He downed it too, after she brought him some. She stumbled around a bit, in the darkened hotel room, but neither of them thought to turn on a lamp or hit the overhead lights. And when she fell back into the bed again, Steph gave him her back and, for awhile, they were just fine alone.

When he awoke again sometime after sunrise, Stephanie was gone, but he didn't think much of it. She always went to get them breakfast, the mornings she was there. He'd actually used his crutches to hobble off into the bathroom before she returned, which Steph was rather happy about. She seemed to worry that he'd eventually just devolve into spending all day, every day, lying in bed, contemplating nothing.

Which is actually where they wound up again, on the bed, as they ate breakfast. Stephanie had gotten them some to go boxes, him his usual two eggs, fried with the yoke still runny, with toast. This paled in comparison to her short stack of chocolate chip pancakes which he, of course, ribbed her on, as he always did, the second she opened the to go box.

"You and your sweets," he remarked with a shake of his head as Steph poured the tiny containers of syrup over them. "How do you even eat all that?"

"I don't," she told him with a slight smile, just like always. "Because you know you're going to ask for at least half."

"Not half."

"A quarter then."

"Maybe just a piece of bacon."

"Just a piece," she agreed with a slight giggle. "You know, Paul, it couldn't hurt you to just cut loose some times. You're going to have to go through rehab anyways, after all this."

"Right. So I should go through it in even worse shape."

"No, but… It might make you feel a bit better," she said as she sat cross-legged on her half of the bed, staring wide eyed at her boyfriend.

"I don't enjoy eating the way that you do," he said though he did hold his box out, waiting for her to put some bacon in there. Then he went back to resting back against the headboard. "Piggy."

"Stop it."

But she said it through laughter and he did, anyways, that exact second, because he could tease Steph up to a point about such a thing, but she'd told him more than once about how self-conscious she felt about her body. He could keep it light, extremely light, but anymore and he'd have a sobbing girlfriend telling him about what a jerk he was and, well, he rather liked keeping her happy.

"I just don't… I dunno. Chocolate isn't my thing," Paul said, nodding at her box. "Not like it is yours. And especially not in pancakes."

Not that that stopped him from accepting a quarter (half) of her pile of sticky, chocolatey calories. And mmm, that whipped cream on the top was the best. The worst, but the best.

Steph took a shower after breakfast and then they both sat on the couch together, her going over a some sort of folder of papers for work or something as he just sat there, bum leg propped up on the tiny coffee table, absently listening to the television.

"You'd have been getting here right about now," he said at one point as she hardly glanced up at him. "Aren't you glad you pushed yourself though? Huh?"

"I haven't even told you," she said, mostly distracted by her work, "about my drive down here. Nightmare. Swear."

Which Paul had to listen to then, of course. It was mostly just the same drivel that she always complained about, but he muted the television and gave her that full attention (seemingly, at least) that she wasn't giving him as she read over whatever it was that was in that folder.

That was one of the things that attracted Steph to Paul though. The way that, when they finally calmed down, he liked to just sit and contemplate. It was something that she'd never known about him, before they started getting close, during their segments on the television. She always assumed that he was a loud mouth show off who was rude and crude and just flat out an asshole to everyone that wasn't his friend.

When they were alone though, she found him to actually be a rather reserved person. When there wasn't anyone to show out for, he preferred to observe more than hold court. He liked for her to be the one to talk. Lead things. And, considering Stephanie loved blabbering on, they fit pretty well that way.

Not that Steph didn't ask him things though, as they sat there, because she did. Some time had passed since the surgery and he was about to begin the real rehab, in about two weeks or so, give or take, and that obviously interested her greatly.

Not that he hadn't told her all of that stuff before. Considering they talked nearly daily, but most certainly every other, she knew all there was to know. It wasn't like he had much else going on to tell her about. Still though, if she asked him to repeat it, then he had no problem doing so.

"I just wish you didn't get stuck up in this hotel all the time," Steph told him, as she frequently did, at one point. "Don't you miss your apartment?"

"I hardly am there either, when I'm working," he pointed out. "This is more homey to me, staying in one hotel room for so long, than having to travel around to different ones."

"I guess so."

"Besides," he said, elbowing her lightly, just to get her to glance at him. "I need to rehab here. With my doc. He's the best."

"I know." With a shrug, she said, "It's not like it'd make that much of a difference to me anyhow. To come here to see you or go to your apartment. I just meant-"

"I know. You're fine." Paul glanced back at the television before saying slowly, "You know, Steph, when I finally get this brace off and do start rehabbing, I won't have much time for...this."

"This? You mean me?"

"I mean sitting around and doing nothing with you," he said with a slight shrug. "I'm going to be working every day at walking and getting stronger and… I just won't have a lot of extra time lying around."

"I know." It was Steph's turn to elbow him gently. "I wouldn't want you to waste the time you have on me anyways."

"Spending time with you is never a waste," he told her. "Ever. But..."

"I get it." Grinning then, Stephanie told him, "You gotta hurry and get back, Paul. I'm miserable without you to hang out with after the show."

"I'm miserable without you in general."

She leaned up against his side then, taking a glance over at the television as well. "Me being here makes it harder, doesn't it?"

"In what way?"

"You know," she said, refusing to glance at him, regardless of his heavy stare down at her, "to sneak your other women in and out."

He grinned at her then, toothily, before saying, "See, you do this to me constantly. You take something that you say isn't funny when I say it and then you steal it and play it off like it's your own joke."

"You should wanna give it to me."

"Should I?"

"If I want it."

"You want my joke, babe?"

"I want all your jokes."

"You can have them. Special permission."

Glancing up at the man's face, she said, "I think I'm funnier than you. Just in general."

"Sure."

"I have better comedic timing and my setups are perfect."

"Right."

"Basically I'm saying that you got the right material, babe, but you're a writer, not a performer."

"You're really somethin', you know that?"

Steph let out a slight giggle before saying, "You'd have to be, like, the worst guy ever, anyways. To make me come all the way out here to see you and be cheating on me."

"Not the worst guy ever. Just not a very great one."

"Mmmm."

"Besides," he said as he bowed his head, moving to nuzzle his nose against the top of her head, "you're almost too much for me and I hardly ever get to see you anymore. No way I could balance anyone else into that too."

"I think the implication that you made, babe, was that you were hardly balancing anything other than if I was there and, if not, calling a prostitute."

"Was that what I was implying?"

"Felt like it."

"I believe the term for the higher caliber of women that I would be perusing-"

"Oh, lord."

"-would be call girls. Not just your run of the mill hookers. No way. I like mine clean and attractive."

"Do you?"

"Mmmhmm." He threw an arm around her shoulders. "And blonde. Busty. I like dark eyes. And-"

"This isn't funny anymore."

Taking a sip of his drink, Paul said, "I feel like my timing was perfect."

"I don't."

"You're cute." He pulled her in tighter, with that arm that was around her, before saying, "I wouldn't even know how to go about getting one of those anyways, Steph."

"I know."

"I'd probably be super awkward about it too."

"Probably."

They fell into a lull then as his joke, once more, hadn't landed and left them in more of a gauche moment than a lighthearted one. Steph went back to her folder of...whatever she was doing and he mostly just tried to think of something to lighten the mood.

He was coming up blank.

Those were the types of risks that he took most of the time with her though. His jokes were frequently a hit or a miss. The point was though to continue coming up with more and more to erase the bad ones.

"Hey, Steph," he tried at one point. "You know-"

"Mmmm." But she was shifted away from him, just a bit, to set her folder on the table his bum leg was resting on before turning to face him. "Paul, you know that I'm not here forever, right?"

"You never are."

"And I want you to either take me to lunch or dinner today."

"Well, I kinda want you to treat me to lunch and dinner, but here we are."

"Other than that though," she went on as he only stared, "there's not much else for us to do. I already brought all the stuff that you asked for-"

"You did. I thank you."

"And you seem like you don't need me to do any of your laundry."

"Nope."

"So..."

"Well, I gotta finish this TV show, but-"

"Paul-"

"I can catch it on a rerun, I suppose," he said with a bit of a cocky smirk as, after setting down his drink, he moved to pick up the TV remote and click it off. "If I gotta service you."

"Service me?" She reached up too, as he turned his head towards her, cupping his cheek in one hand. "Hardly. It's more than likely the other way around. Completely."

"Don't think so, babe."

"Totally is, babe."

"Definitely not, babe."

"I bring so much more to the table for you than you do for me."

"In what world are you living?"

"Uh, try the real one."

"No way."

"Yes way."

They made some more soft denials of one another's implication, but they were spoken softly against one another's lips and held no true bearing on anything. For awhile, that was all there was for the two of them. It was when one of Paul's hands started to slip down to the front of her jeans that Steph truly broke their kiss.

"What?" he mumbled as her hand untangled from his hair. "Steph? Not here? Give me my crutch then and we can move over to the bed-"

"It's not that." She shifted on the couch, so that she could sit on her knees on the couch, before grinning at him, maybe even giggling a bit. "I just want you first."

He laughed too, when she did that raising the eye brows suggestively thing, which sent her into hysterics, but not for long. He was still grinning, rather brightly, as he relaxed back into the couch, facing forwards once more.

"Just so you know," he said as Steph leaned over him, "I still consider this me servicing you."

"How?"

"Because," he explained, hissing just a bit when she started to pull down the zipper of his jean shorts, "you _need_ to do this for me."

"You don't need me to do it for you though?"

"That's not in question right now."

"You're so stupid," she said, eyes focused less on his eyes then and more down. "You know that?"

For a good while, he didn't know anything other than that life was great and Steph was even better.

She took a shower, later, before they went out to a lunch while Paul washed off with a washcloth, grumbling to her about how lucky she was that he was willing to even go out.

"You wanna use you crutches?" Steph asked after they were both ready to go. "Or your wheelchair?"

He snorted, just as she expected, before saying, "I hate that stupid wheelchair."

"Yeah, but-"

"It does my arms good, anyways," he remarked. "Keeps them in shape."

"As oppose to pushing yourself around in a chair-"

"You mean you wouldn't push me?"

"I might," she said as she gathered her purse. "Or I might shove you down a hill if you mention prostitutes again."

"There's that great comedic timing of yours." It was summer, but he tossed his leather jacket at her anyways, because she always wore it when they went out together, always. "You're right, you are the master of it."

"I try."

"McMahon family genes at work."

"Mmmhmm." She loved the feel of his jacket, as she sipped into it. Especially the way it was far too big for her. "Now come on; I'm starved."

"Really? After that huge breakfast?"

"The huge breakfast that you ate both mine and yours of?"

"I saw you poking at my eggs, woman."

Steph made a face as they headed to the door. "For some reason, that sounds a lot worse than how you meant it to."

"Oh, no, I definitely meant it to sound just how it did."

"Of course."

Lunch went fine. Steph thought that it always made Paul feel better, when they went out on dates. It helped him forget, just for a bit, about his quad and all the progress he was still going to have to begin making, right around the corner. He was nervous, Steph knew, underneath it all, about what it would mean, when his brace came off in the coming days. Everything was unknown to him and, to add to it all, there was a chance that none of it would matter. That he wouldn't come back, regardless, to WWF, to the ring, to the only thing that ultimately mattered to him.

All that weight had to be alleviated sometimes. She was glad she could do it for him.

When they got back to the hotel, Paul stretched out on the couch, head in Stephanie's lap, listening to him grumble on and on about this or that. He had a lot of thoughts, after all, about a lot of things, and ample time to think about them. They'd already gotten done for the day what they needed; the flirting, the date, and the...well… Now it was time for him to decompress and get out in more detail all the things he'd relayed to her over the phone recently. He got like that, when the sun went down, it seemed, and felt the need to divulge everything in his brain to her, least it might explode.

Of course, this was always brought on by her. She asked leading questions until he burst and just unloaded all his feelings on her.

She liked it, honestly. Listening to his feelings. The way that he could open up to her those days, with little to no resistance. It made her feel special.

"That's because you are special, Steph," he told her through a sigh as he stared up into her cerulean eyes. "To me."

"You're cute," she giggled, reaching down with one hand to push back some of his hair, her own falling down, over his face. "When you're honest."

"What about when I'm not?"

"Your jokes are cute too. All of you is." Her thumb traced a path down his cheek. "But we don't have to talk about me."

"I want to. We spent, like, the past twenty on me. Spend some on you."

"We spend every day on me."

"Did you miss the part where I called you special?"

"And you think you're not to me?" She cocked her head to the side. "There's not a single other guy I would go out of my way to do this all for."

"And I thank you. Because I know I don't have another woman in my life that would do it for me."

"Maybe it's because you drive them all away with your oh so funny jokes."

"Maybe it's because I'm just no good at relationships with anyone other than you."

"Maybe."

"Maybe."

Steph leaned over then, to brush her lips across his forehead, and Paul only grinned before saying, "Can you just quit? Working? And stay here with me forever?"

"Mmmm, I don't think you realize just yet how annoying I can get."

"Oh, no, I most certainly do."

"Don't believe it for a second. Or else you wouldn't say that."

"Fake a torn quad with me," he said, grinning. "Retire in your twenties and inherit your McMahon gold now. Take care of me."

"I don't think there's any chance of that ever happening."

"I deserve a good pampering."

"You know," she said with a frown, "when old men take care of young women, it's because they get sex and she's gets money. What exactly would I get out of taking care of you?"

"I'm taking from what you just said you're not going to take sex as an answer?"

"Well, we do have a pretty good thing going between the sheets, you and I."

"The very best."

"But it's not worth my portion of the fortune, no."

"How much do you get anyways?"

"Not as much as you'd think. Vince is still kind of alive and kicking, you know."

"Oh, believe me, I know."

"And a lot of his money is tied up in the company. That's where his worth comes from."

"Sell it."

"Sell it?"

"Sell the whole damn thing. Kill Vince, pay off your mother, get Shane charged on some trumped up charges, and then me and you take the rest."

As always with his odd scenarios that never rightly seemed thought out (they weren't; he always thought them up on the spot, just to piss her off), Steph only let out a short breath before asking, "What would we do with all the money, Paul?"

"Runaway together, babe."

"To where?"

"Bahamas. Tahiti. France. London. New Hampshire-"

"Runaway back to your home?"

"I have great connections there." He laughed at himself, unable to keep a straight face then. "And a lotta people I'd wanna rub our fortune in the face of."

"Being Triple H isn't enough of a face rub?"

"Not compared to fucking a McMahon, no."

"I've met all your old friends. Back at your old home. I'm sure they do assume that we're...fucking."

"Yeah, but fucking and get paid?" Paul whistled. "Set me up on that path as soon as possible, babe. No joke. I wanna fuck you, spend your money, and just relax."

"You do two of those now."

"But the money's the big one."

"Oh? And...fucking me isn't?"

"Mmmm. Don't go feeling all down on yourself. It's definitely high on the list." His eyes were alight as he said, "But money trumps all."

"That's cold."

"It's true."

"It can't be."

"How come?"

Her thumb fell over his lips that time, pressing down as she told him, "You almost lost your only source of income, just to...fuck me. When Dad got mad at you and threatened you, that if we didn't stop… But you stayed with me."

His lips opened then and he pressed his rough tongue to the pad of her thumb. Steph made that crinkled face then, but didn't remove her thumb until he tried to suck it into his mouth fully. It was with a giggle though and hiss of how bad he was that she did so.

"The long con," he said simply as she only frowned down at him. "That's all. I'm in this for the long con. Get the McMahon money and power and company eventually."

"You're in for a very long con then and with a chance at very little reward." She looked forwards then, hands coming to rest on his head once more. "And you might be fucking the wrong McMahon offspring."

"I ain't that committed." Paul stuck his tongue out that time. "Shane'd have to offer me a lot to get me to fuck him long term wise."

"What about just for once?"

"Can we not talk about this? I do plan on being around your family again."

"Oh, so you can talk about murdering them in cold blood-"

"Vince. I was murdering Vince, paying off Linda, and setting Shane up. Marissa didn't fall into the equation."

"-but you can't talk about sleeping with them."

"It's them now? As in plural? As in you want to discuss me sleeping with multiple members of your immediate-"

"Okay, you called my bluff, never mind." Steph blushed and was unable to look back down on him. "Yeah, alright, let's not talk about that again."

"Thought so."

It felt good to be together again, but also rather short. It always did though and, when Steph left the next morning, it was after being sure he needed nothing and some languid kisses goodbye.

"You call me," he more or less demanded, after the last one, as he just sat there on the bed, her climbing out of it then, leaving him behind, to get back to the life he was defiantly fighting to return to as well. "When you get...wherever it is you're going. Alright?"

Nodding, she reached down to run her hands through his hair one last time. Then, giggling, she said, "I'll be listening though."

"For what?"

"The sounds of hushed whispers from your call girls-"

"There you go again, stealing my material-"

"Comedic timing."

"I'm sure."

"Maybe I'm just long conning you, huh?" Her eyes twinkled a bit as she leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. "For all your marvelous jokes?"

When she pressed her lips to his flesh though, Paul only reached out to hug her to him, nearly causing the woman to fall over. Steadying herself with a hand to his chest, she frowned, but he only shook his head a bit.

"I love you," he told her softly because it needed to be said then. Even if they were just making jokes about the cons and women and shit, it had to be said, before she left, so that it weighed in her mind as the last thing they did, rather than just joke some more. "Stephanie."

Her cheeks were rosy, but she still nodded before whispering the words back. Then he let her go and, with a slight wave, she went.

Lying there in bed, Paul looked down at his braced knee before sighing. He'd be going in for a check up with his doctor the next day and, hopefully, the man would agree that it was about time for him to get the damn thing off. Either that or it would be in the coming week. The sooner the better, he figured. He hoped.

But if he'd thought that past four months had been long and tedious, he knew that he'd die, probably, during the next set.

He just had to keep his eye on the prize though, that ring, the company, just wrestling again, honestly, anywhere, to prove that he could. It was what he was best at, after all.

Still, part of him hoped he wasn't too busy, a week from then, when Steph showed back up to see him again. Maybe even sooner than that (though it was doubtful). It was slowly becoming one of the only pleasures in his life (for emotional reasons as well as the physical, of course) and he wasn't so sure he could give it up just yet.

Head falling back onto the pillow, he watched the ceiling for a bit and thought about anything other than his return (it was too painful) and even less about her (Steph's invasion arc of WWF had nothing on what she could do to his thoughts) and just be for awhile. It wasn't as nice, just being all by himself, but it was manageable.

Mmmm. He felt empty, with no thoughts to himself any longer, as he always did when she left, but knew it wouldn't take long for him to conjure up some new fears and problems for the woman to wash away for him. Not to mention, he was supposed to call his mother that day and let her know if she needed to come by and see him and he wanted to talk to his father and Shawn had been bugging him a bit, that they had completely lost connection recently, and shit, Steph would be calling again with more of her road nightmares (honestly, the woman was just a maniac behind the wheel; he figured it went along with being a McMahon).

Glancing at the hotel's phone, which sat on the nightstand by the bed, he reached for it, figuring he should at least get started on the first part of that. It would give him something to do, anyways. And he should be glad. Because when his days would be filled with strenuous exercise and diet in a few days, he'd miss doing nothing.

He just didn't realize how much yet.

* * *

 **This was spawned mostly from one of Jericho's podcasts (it popped up in my youtube suggestions) where he's talking to Paul about his injury and he mentions that he holed up in a motel for nine months, to be close to his surgeon, and that just seemed like true commitment to me. Plus it kind of invalidates most of what I've written about his '01 injury, but it's mostly the same in that Steph just comes to visit him in the hotel instead of his apartment or house.**

 **Plus there's a new Vince murder plot for you, so there's that.**


End file.
